The earl sat perfectly still and looked at the carpet.
"Blair," he said, at last, "you are on the road to ruin!"
"It's not so bad as that, sir, I hope," said the young man, after a rather startled stare and pause.
"You are a spendthrift and a gambler," continued the earl, his face hardening at each word.
Lord Blair's face flushed.
"That's rather strong, isn't it, sir?" he said, quietly.
"It is the truth—the plain truth," retorted the earl, quickly. "You are twenty-five, and you have run through—flung to the winds, destroyed—nearly all your own property. Only Ketton remains, and that is, you tell me, to go. What do you expect me to say? Have you no conscience, no sense of decency? But, indeed, the question is unnecessary, you have none."
The young man rose, and on his handsome face came a look that bore a faint resemblance to that on the old man's.
"What do you mean?" he asked, shortly.
The earl raised his eyes.